


The Auld Man Of Jerah (English Version)

by astrothsknot



Category: Original Work
Genre: English Version of Posted Work, F/M, Fairy Tale Style, Original Character(s), Scots Setting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 21:23:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16961736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrothsknot/pseuds/astrothsknot
Summary: The English Version of my fairy tale.A Prince of the Wild Hunt falls for a mortal.She's less than impressed.He's winning this heart if it kills him.Hopefully, it won't killher





	The Auld Man Of Jerah (English Version)

Most fairy tales start with “Once Upon a Time” but I’ll not start mine like that, for it’s a true tale an I’ll not lie in the telling.

There’s a fairy and one’s a tale, but that doesn’t make it false.

All the farms in the Ochils don’t have a young lassie as pretty as Jennet Burns as lived at Jerah Farm, Near as high as Myreton on the hill in the glen. She wasn’t fair of face the way her sisters were, but she was pleasing in her own way.

Jennet was known about the town for her sharp mouth and her sharp mind, for she was a clever lassie, always fond of the book learning and knew her numbers. Jennet was known for wondering about the hills and glens in the Ochils. She helped keep her father’s house and her father’s farm. Jennet could keep a house as well is she could keep a bull as her father’s books.

Now, as I said, Jennet was fond of a wander about the hills where she stopped. She knew all about the history and the science and the nature of the Ochils, and she knew the tales of the Good Folk and the glaistigs. 

She knew those who were respectful to the Good Folk got respect returned, but those who weren’t, didn’t. They found the milk sour in the jug and their lassies stole away in the night, like that smith in Tullibody, Davie Rae’s wife and the Miller at Menstrie, they stole away with his woman as well.

Jennet put a portion out for the Good Folk and kept some of the sheep byre for them if they were caught out. Before long, the Good Folk started leaving a small token for the lassie, for the Good Folk cleave to the Old Ways and never let a deed away unrewarded for good or ill.

They weren’t large trinkets left for the lassie, just a wee bauble for her hair or a ring for her finger or a book she wanted to read. Just wee things.

But nothing is wee to a Sidhe. 

One hot day, Jennet had been going about her business when she was too hot. She knew the hills well and she knew where she could find a wee pool in the Inchna Burn before it becomes Menstrie Burn. There the lassie would be able to get a good depth for a swim.

So she went to her pool, the Dug Linne and sat down on the bank. She stripped down to her skin and swum in the cold water. She sang as she swam and dived down with the trout and minnows.

She came up and there was a young laddie there on the bank. He was sitting watching her. Jennet could see the laddie wasn’t a laddie. He was too handsome to be a normal laddie. He was ageing with her and had eyes as purple as the thistles on the burnside and hair as white as the snow on the high mountains looking across the valley to the Trossachs. As he moved to watch her it moved through all the shades of the sunset and the sunrise.

And Jennet knew him for what he was. 

For such a handsome boy could only be one thing.

One of the Good Folk and a Lord amongst them at that.

Jennet kept to the water, for she didn’t know if this Sidhe Lord meant her good or ill.

“You’re the lassie Burns of Jerah Farm?” he said before long and his voice sounded like thunder and music all running together in a fall like the Devon in spate at Rumblin Brig.

“Aye, you know that I am.” Jennet said from the water.

“I’m Laren Bhain, and I’ve been lying in your byre these last months.”

“Aye and so?” said Jennet.

“I wanted to see the lassie with the sharp mouth and the sweet heart.” 

“Aye and so?” said Jennet.

For Jennet knew who the youth was. Laren Bhain was the second son of the Sidhe Queen and not just any Sidhe Queen. 

No, Laren Bhain was the son of Queen of the Sluagh, hunters of the sinners Hell had yet to catch. It was said that even Auld Donald himself was afraid of the Queen of the Sluagh. For the Sidhe were an auld folk, even as demons were children and their magics and powers were older than time, for the Sidhe were ever a race apart from time.

Many a child born of the Sidhe and a Human had the gift of prophecy and the Second Sight and travel the Ways that the other races couldn’t access.

“Aye, it’s so, and you’re how they speak of you, Jennet,” said Laren Bhain. “They speak of you true.”

“And what do they say of me?” asked the lassie Burns.

“They say you’ve a mind as sharp as a steel trap fit to break a man’s legs and I know you’ve a heart the size of the Forth at its’ widest reach.” Said Laren Bhain.

“And why would you want to look at me? For now you have and you can take your leave of me.”

“The book in your bag, I left it for you. The ribbon in your hair, I left it for you and the rings for your fingers, I left them.” Prince Laren Bhain didn’t move from the burnside. “For a man falls in love over a smile, a laugh. The way a woman tosses her hair over her shoulder. The food she gave to a poor family who had none. That I saw, stopping in your byre of a night. And I fain fell in love with you, Jennet Burns of Jerah Farm.” 

The Sidhe don’t lie, so Jennet knew it for truth.

“Aye and so?” she said from the water. 

Laren Bhain’s jaw fair dropped with the shock. “I could have any woman in this valley, but you?”

“Aye, for I don’t know you from Adam.” Jennet dived back down under the water.

When she came back up, Laren Bhain had gone away.

***

Laren Bhain was utterly confused with Jennet Burns. There wasn’t a man nor woman alive that had turned down a Prince of the Sidhe.

A lesser man would have rained down disaster on her and her family, but Laren Bhain was no fool. 

For the best loves are the ones freely given.

He went up the crag where Auld Donald himself often danced, along with Black Kate of Parsonlees and Auld Meg of Ashentroole. 

Auld Donald was so shocked to see a High Prince across from him, that he nearly fell off the crag and down in to the Inchna Burn.

“Well met, White Prince,” said Auld Donald, for he knew the Auld Ways and kept them also.

“Hail to you, Black Laird,” said Laren Bhain.

“Have you come to dance?” Asked Auld Donald.

“I prefer the music from a Sidhe piper,” said Laren Bhain.

“You’ve not come to dance and you’ve no need of magic, so White Prince, why are you here? The Sidhe and Host of Hell usually only meet in the passing on the Mortal Realm.”

“I’m here for a woman’s heart.” Laren Bhain spoke plain and true.

“Does it yet beat, inside her breast?”

“It does.” Laren Bhain spoke plain and true.

“So, you’ve a fondness for the lassie,” asked Auld Donald, stroking his beard.

“I do.”

“You could just take her. Our kinds both do that.” said Auld Donald, rubbing his horns.

“And never is that love, a true love,” replied Laren Bhain.

“Davie Rae’s wife, Janet Coklay didn’t complain when your kind whisked her up the chimney.”

“And the Miller of Menstrie’s woman sang such sad songs so sweetly about her lost man, we told the Miller ourselves how he might break the spell she was under,” said Laren Bhain. 

“So,” nodded Auld Donald. ”You’ve fell true for the lassie Burns. I’ve seen her about the Ochils. She’s some lassie. Does your Mother know you’ve laid out your barrow for a mortal?”

“Not yet.”

“Something to look forward to then,” said Auld Donald, knowing full well the ruckus when Laren Bhain took his intended to his Mother.

“So Laren Bhain, you want me to tell you how to win the hand of a mortal woman?”

“I do, for who else would know, but one who makes a study of Man, so better to tempt him?” replied Laren Bhain.

“Tis flattery, Laren Bhain, but none the less true for it.” Auld Donald rubbed his horns. “You must look to the lassie, Laren Bhain and be yourself turned to the kind of man that would win her heart.

For whilst she’s not afraid of you being a Sidhe and a Prince at that, Mortal Man shies away from a lassie that doesn’t wait to marriage before she stops hiding she’s clever.

Are you afraid of Jennet Burns and her clever mind, Laren Bhain?”

“Tis why I love her true,” said Laren Bhain.

“Then I have nothing more to tell you, Laren Bhain.” Auld Donald turned away from the Prince and back to the dancing witches.

* * *


End file.
